Stages of Destruction
by Riddelly
Summary: Three snapshots of Obi-Wan Kenobi's hidden feelings for Anakin Skywalker, set during each of the prequels. AniObi slash. Three-shot.
1. Cracked

**A/N **_Hello, hello, AniObi lovers! XD I actually posted the three stories included here a while back, separately, but now I'm going back and combining them, since having a sequence of one-shots out there as different stories is a bit sad, plus it clogs up the page listing them all. So, yes. First up is "Cracked," set during The Phantom Menace. Very much pre-slash, so, sorry about that. Drop me a review? Please?_

**Rated **_K plus for references to death and other scary, scary things._

**Disclaimer **_I don't own Star Wars or any associated characters, events, etc. _

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><p><strong>[13]**

**CRACKED**

The fire crackled, hissing and spitting like an enraged dragon, repeatedly striking over and over at the serene body that it engulfed. In profile, the burning man seemed leonine, and his expression of almost stern steadiness was evident even as he was reduced to nothing more than a silhouette against the blazing tapestry. This clearly wasn't a man who died entirely content, nor was he one who deceased in anger. He had left this world in worry. Worry, most likely, that his Padawan had only sworn to a certain promise because he, the burning man, had been on his deathbed. It wasn't that Qui-Gon Jinn didn't think his apprentice trustworthy; he only doubted that he would really find it within him to take up the training of the Force-sensitive slave boy they'd discovered on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in silence, the firelight reflected in his fierce blue-gray eyes. Qui-Gon had no need to be concerned. His dying wish had been that Obi-Wan train Anakin Skywalker, and the now Master-less Jedi would uphold that at any cost. Qui-Gon had meant the world to him, and therefore he would never go back on his oath. _If you wish it, Master, than it will be my creed to live by. _As these words echoed in Obi-Wan's mind, he felt almost as if this moment, this funeral was shared only between him and Qui-Gon. Yes, there were shadowed Naboo guards stationed around the pyre, as well as Queen Padmé Amidala, Senator Palpatine, an assortment of Gungans, and Jedi Masters Yoda and Mace Windu.

There was the boy, too, Obi-Wan realized. He watched Qui-Gon burn with a surprisingly resilient yet sad expression on his innocent little face. This boy, Anakin Skywalker, had supposedly single-handedly destroyed the Trade Federation's main battleship, though that was more than a little difficult to believe. Obi-Wan himself had analyzed a sample of his blood, revealing it to have a midi-chlorian count higher than he would have imagined possible. He had heard tales of the child winning a pod race in order to help others, selflessly concocting a plan to get the Naboo royalty and two Jedi off of Tatooine, tearing himself away from his mother when told to. This boy was unique in every way. Who else could be selfless enough to do such things?

Anakin was a mystery to Obi-Wan. A fascinating, intriguing mystery. And as time wore on and the pyre's flames raged higher, he found his gaze focused less and less on the dead Jedi Knight and more and more on the quiet little boy, who never fidgeted, never complained of boredom, only stood stoically and waited.

_Anakin…?_

Obi-Wan shook himself, and felt the focus of Master Yoda fall upon him. Unwillingly, he had let his emotions reach out in a shy, curious little tendril, brushing up against the boy, who started.

_Shame! _He cursed himself. _Don't let yourself bend so low. Focus on the present, focus on letting go of Qui-Gon. Don't think of the slave boy. He is to be taken care of later. Not now. Now, you need to address the present issue. _The present issue was to let peace fall over him, to not let himself sink into sadness. But there was no sadness to be found inside of him. A strange, different emotion was curling and twisting inside him. It was an odd feeling, almost content, but at the same time adventurous, exciting, something that made his heart pound and his stomach flip.

And then an entirely new thought flitted across his mind.

_I'm not going to train Anakin because Qui-Gon told me to. _

_I'm going to because I want to. _


	2. Broken

**A/N **_Part two, "Broken," which I actually wrote before "Cracked." Set during Attack of the Clones... yes. I have nothing else to say. _

**Disclaimer **_I don't own Star Wars or any associated characters, events, etc. _

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><p><strong>[23]**

**BROKEN**

Anakin had innocent eyes, though they had gone through more than they should have—the death of a friend, the loss of a mother, the agony of being separated from the woman he loved for ten years. His love for her was obvious, painfully obvious, to most all of the Jedi, but they ignored it, hoping that it would pass in time. After all, Padmé Amidala was adored by many.

Yes, many, Obi-Wan Kenobi told himself. Anakin's feelings for her were just another in the long line. He was unreasonably excited over seeing her, and even more drastically disappointed when she had next to no reaction meeting him again, but still, it couldn't mean anything. Of course not.

Obi-Wan shook his head minutely, as if trying to realign his thoughts. He was a Jedi Knight; he wasn't supposed to have wonderings or doubts. And, usually, he didn't. But the more time he spent around Anakin, the harder it was to keep his facts straight. Because Anakin Skywalker, his Padawan, wasn't a creature of facts and order, like Master Yoda or Master Windu. Unlike the typical Jedi, he was everywhere, everything, all the time. He was sadness and joy, fury and peace, fire and water, sky and earth, a glorious, glittering swirl in the center of the even alignment of the Force. He was more powerful than the death of a thousand star systems or a pillar of flame arching through the universe. Obi-Wan always knew how his apprentice was feeling, no matter their distance from one another, simply because they were so connected. And so he always knew that Anakin was consumed by his desire for Padmé. That wasn't right, for a Jedi. Only the Sith loved, and at the price of being tools of darkness. Jedi couldn't love. Because they were Jedi. Love and passion were distractions, the reason for a fatal slip in a duel or the surrender of priceless information to an enemy. And so, logically, they were forbidden. That was how it was. How it always had been, and how it always would be.

Anakin had broken this law.

So had Obi-Wan.

Slowly, the older Jedi adjusted his balance, putting the weight on the back of his feet, unlocking his knees, and bouncing slightly to ensure the flow of blood through his system. They had only been here, outside of Amidala's bedroom, for a few minutes, but the plan was to remain there through the whole night. His discussion with Anakin on Padmé herself had lapsed into silence, and the Padawan was turned slightly towards the Senator's door. Still, he sensed Obi-Wan's movement, and imitated it.

"You must remember to maintain these things yourself," Obi-Wan reminded him. Though his voice was soft, it sliced through the aura of silent peace in the Coruscant apartment.

"I try, Master," Anakin replied, voice distracted. He glanced at the Jedi Knight for a moment, and Obi-Wan was careful to hide how much he savored the feel of those sky-blue eyes fixed on him. Then they were gone, as the handsome, young face whipped around, Padawan braid flying, to stare, horrified, in the direction of Amidala's room.

It took an eternal moment for Obi-Wan to sift through his feelings, trying to discern what had upset Anakin. Then he felt it, a burning danger on the other side of the door.

"I sense it, too," he muttered, but Anakin had already leapt into the bedroom of his love and future wife, lightsaber swinging, leaving Obi-Wan to hurry after him, left alone for a long moment in the shadowed apartment.


	3. Shattered

**A/N **_And, finally, at Revenge of the Sith with "Shattered." Poor Obi, I really do have to feel bad for the guy. Right. Anyway. Please, please review, and I hope you enjoyed this little arc of one-shots!_

**Disclaimer **_I don't own Star Wars or any associated characters, events, etc. _

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><p><strong>[33]**

**SHATTERED**

To be a good Jedi is to not love. Never love. Love is something unpredictable and uncontrollable, something that can't be factored into an equation calculating chances of survival or the probability of winning a fought-over planet. It consumes the mind of its bearer, twists their lightsaber-bearing hand aside at the last moment before it plunges into the heart of an enemy. It extends that same hand, which is now weaponless, leaving the path clear for a laser beam to arch through a chest, tear out its prize of life, and leave triumphantly. It boosts the confidence of the weak, so that even when they are hopelessly, endlessly outnumbered, they will rise up and fight, resulting yet again in their death. It drags one closer and closer to another's sickbed, until they are on it, in it, surrounded and enveloped by the deadly virus that will then seep into them, poison them, so that death can cackle and swipe away the heart's beating once again.

There were a thousand or more ways that love could kill. It was more dangerous than any Sith Lord or Separatist, for when there was love, there didn't need to be an opposing party. With the assistance of love, friend could kill friend. This could not happen to one of the guardians of the galaxy. Not a proficient one. Not one who could be admired, elected to the Council, voted to lead countless missions, to kill the Separatist General Grievous, to kill the Sith Lord Darth Vader.

It couldn't happen.

So why did it?

_Why? _

_Why? _Obi-Wan Kenobi asks himself again and again as he takes the last few steps towards Padmé Amidala. She watches him with cautious brown eyes, so large and warm in her beautiful, pale face. Obi-Wan could see why Anakin fell in love with this face. It would be impossible not to, for someone as weak-resolved as his former Padawan. _Weak-resolved? What are you saying? _This was the man who had killed children with the very lightsaber Obi-Wan used to tease him about losing. This was the man who betrayed the Republic and enforced the tyranny of Darth Sidious. This was the man who turned on and murdered Jedi Master Mace Windu.

This was also the man who Obi-Wan had fought with—not against, but _with_—across the galaxy, time and time again, for thirteen years since that first night when they had stood in silence before the burning, flickering corpse of Qui-Gon Jinn.

The man whom he had been through more than anybody else with.

His son, his brother.

And, beyond all that… something else. Something that he couldn't put a name to, not right now, as he speaks softly with Amidala about the person who he needed to find. Needed to kill.

They called him Darth Vader.

But he wasn't Darth Vader. He wasn't Darth anything. Obi-Wan remembered the last time he had seen those blue eyes, bidding him farewell as he departed for Utapau. A little darkened, a little troubled. But they weren't Sith eyes. They weren't exactly Jedi eyes, either, but that was irrelevant. They were the eyes of a friend. And that was what mattered. There had been no Darth Vader. Not then, not ever.

Only Anakin.

Anakin Skywalker.

_The Chosen One. _

_My Padawan. _

_Anakin. _

Amidala denies that Anakin ever did a thing, denies that he killed those younglings, denies that he turned Sith. And, in his mind, Obi-Wan is screaming the same thing. _Yes, Padmé! Yes, you're right! Of course it's impossible. Of course he couldn't have done something like that. Chancellor—Emperor—Palpatine must have done something to the security tapes, superimposed Anakin's face over that dark creature. It can't be him. There's no way. _

But, since he is a Master Jedi, he can't say these things. He can't reveal the truth: that, despite his best intentions, despite trying so hard, despite all his years and years of training, his well-structured, organized mind is in chaos.

_Anakin is gone._

_There is only Darth Vader._

_The one I must kill. _

But Padmé isn't telling where he is. She's devoted. _More than me. _She's loyal to him, not about to give anything about him away. So Obi-Wan stands, defeated, and starts towards his speeder. But not before he hesitates, staring straight out at the cheerful surface of Coruscant, and asks softly,

"Anakin is the father, isn't he?"

Padmé nods. He knows she does. And that's when something inside of him twists, hard, and the delicate part of him that has endured so much is launched away, crashing to the floor, shattering into thousands of piercing shards. Something that can never, ever be repaired. He bows his head, staring at the ground, as his blood pulses twice as heavily as before.

"I'm so sorry," he says, but this is spoken coldly, differently, because that fiery little glasswork inside of him is gone. Gone. It's not coming back.

_This is good now, _he thinks simply. _I can finally be the Jedi I was meant to be. There's nothing left._

But that is a lie. It will always be a lie.

_Even as he first stares into the golden glow of Vader's eyes on Mustafar…_

_When he gives the blow that severs all of the Sith's natural limbs…_

_When he turns dejectedly away one last time…_

_When he watches Padmé give birth to the twins…_

_When he delivers Luke to Owen and Beru…_

_When he reencounters him for the first time, as an adventurous four-year-old…_

_When he rescues the boy from the Sand People, who murdered his grandmother…_

_When he hands over the lightsaber he'd lifted from the gravel at the lava planet…_

_When he says softly, "You must learn the ways of the Force if you are to come with me to Alderaan…"_

_When he sets off alone down the Death Star's corridors…_

_When he sets his eyes on the man he loves for the first time in nineteen years, hidden behind a dark mask…_

_And when the final blow is struck, the one that shows how Anakin is truly gone, truly consumed, how he will never, never truly be back. _

All this time, it will be a lie.


End file.
